The Bar

AceRay

Maybe, just maybe, if someone were to write, say, a time travel entry or reveal that the bar blowing up was just a dream, maybe we could rewind the timeline and make it alive again. The only way this will happen is if, say, two people contribute at least 3 stories between them of 500 words or more. The things that might happen, you know?

arch stanton﻿

Dr James Roswell was an infamous scientist - living by the bay in a shady bay, north of San Fran. He was born and raised in Oslo, Norway but as a child was deported with his family to America. A year after their arrival, both their parents were killed in a sudden and tragic car accident. James was only five at the time of the event, but the event still lingers.

The morning fog rose from the paddocks - cattle and trees were in view. James' father and mother, Julie and Eric were driving cross country to meet Eric's father who lived on the very outskirts of Tennessee. Their car passed through the plains - the road that divided the paddocks. Supposedly, Eric had nodded off into a sleep for a split second and didn't notice that he had drove his vehicle with his wife inside onto a railroad track. The wreckage was horrific. Body parts scattered all across the open land.

James, was given to a foster family who lived in San Diego. And for most of his life, he grew up with an abusing foster father and a foster mother who was constantly giving birth to a child every few years. His foster father pressured him to go well at school, even though he was a little slow. Over high-school, his grades had risen but not the abuse from his father. Several times throughout his life, he had contemplated killing himself - he sat in the darkness of his room, examining a bottle of bleach, undoing the cap but couldn't do it.

In the fall of 96', he graduated college with qualifications in numerous topics; psychology, physics and a few others. For some time, worked in diesel mechanic in Idaho, where he met a group of guys who were interested in the same stuff he was. They were all movie-buffs; specifically sci-fi. Over the following years, many of his friends died in strange accidents. He didn't take much notice of the fact that almost everyone he met, somehow magically died. When travelling back to San Diego, he was informed by the county police that his foster parents were killed - it was murder.

Over twists and turns of events, here he ends up. Watching a psychopath blow up a bar and get away with it - the thing was, who was he after? James scrolled through his past messages and Facebook status. He noticed a similar connection to all the recent messages and status' he had made. They all indicated he was heading to this bar. He had seen that man before - the one escaping the bar. He was good friends with someone who use to work with him in the diesel mechanic but 'somehow' died on a vacation to Canada. James watched as the bar was engulfed in flames - fire trucks soon arriving. He ran over in his head dozens of times who his friend was but couldn't remember. After all these years of drinking and smoking, it just ruined his memory. But finally, after sitting down on the street corner and watching ash float around in the sky the name finally was remembered. His name was 'Malachy' - a very tall guy, he remembered.

Malachy would always be on the wrong side of the law a lot of the time. He had a lot of jail time throughout the years James had known him. Everything started to pour back. He even remembered when he took his first shot of heroin. It was at a part of his back in the 90's. The night was a blur was he remembered one guy that kept pissing everyone off. This guy tried to stand out as a joker a lot of the time. Malachy would say he was just a 'business partner' but he knew he was more. At the time, this guy use to wear suit jackets. The most recognizable piece of him was that he was Japanese - he had long black hair at the time and looked like he was always on drugs. Just a few minutes ago, he saw the same person, just with shorter hair and a red tie, leave the bar as it exploded.

He fled the scene and a week passed. James, for a few years now, worked at a service station in town. Watching people come and go in a hurry, but someone strange entered the room. The sliding doors opened and a man, dressed in a suit and red tie walked in slowly. He had been watching him for a minute outside as he filled his car up. James felt nervous, his palms began to sweat as he watched the man. The man walked over and opened the ice cream freezer, before grabbing a plain ice-cream stick and approaching the counter. James stumbled over his words, "Is.. is, is that all, sir"

The man nodded, not looking up at James. The man fiddled around with his phone, and placed the money on the counter. All of his life seemed like a complete 'play'. He just felt like a chess piece in a puzzle. He knew this man was looking for him, but what he said on the next phone-call conversation stumped him.

"Malachy's brother couldn't tell me where Malachy was. I had to take out the trash."

James slammed his fist down onto the counter, and the man's head shot up with a stare.

"What?" asked the man in the suit.

James gritted his teeth and leaped over the counter, falling onto the man before pinning him down and calling out for someone to call the police. The man's phone dropped onto the floor beside them. James tried to hold him down but he just got spat in the face and thrown back across the room - towards the counter. James leaped back behind the counter and ducked for cover. His boss had told him in any hold -up, to get the pistol under the counter. Nervously, he loaded the pistol. The man began to fire multiple shots at him with a pump action shot-gun.

"What do you want you punk?" the Asian man called out.

"You killed Malachy! Now you are looking to kill me!" yelled James, holding the pistol in his grip and still kneeling behind the counter.

"I am looking for Malachy. He isn't dead. I wasn't looking to kill you, but know you mentioned it," he fired a few more shots into the counter bench. James was hit and blood splatted on the wall behind him as he kept cover.

"You've been looking for me a long time," screamed James, "Don't lie!" he jumped up from the counter and fired several bullets into the mans chest and watched as he fell onto the ground inbetween the sliding door - it opened and closed on him repetitively.

He slowly walked over and pointed the bullet at his head.

"Look, kid," blood oozed from the mans mouth, "This is going to sound stupid but, trust me. I've been looking to kill you for a long time. Not just me, but a group of people. In the future from now, you did great things," heaved the man.

"This is just some joke, right?"

"No, you created time-travel. If you kill me now, you will cease to exist." James thought this was some time of game - it couldn't be true. It was absolute garbage. He held the gun in his hand, and felt it shaking. He didn't know what to do.

----

AceRay, you asked for it. I have put you in a bit of a pickled situation. Have fun trying to get out of this one.

Mr. House

Playing 'the badass'
Okay listen up, this is a bar, a bar when where people come to drink and we're expecting conflict now and again between patrons or their own story but in order to create a third dimensional character- YOU ARE NOT AN ACTION HERO. You don't have mad shooting skills, you can't kill people with your farts, and you sure as f*ck can't kick twelve burly bastards while drinking a Martini. Create a realistic character with flaws.

Aceray, you must of forgotten this rule? No, I can't blame you. You seemed to really like the idea of this topic and I can see you tried to save it as well but in the end, all good things must come to an end.

And as for Nale Dixon - all your posts I've read on this forum have tried to be comedic in some way but just turn out to make you look and sound naive and frankly, annoying.

Oh well, you can't win them all. Maybe you should try not taking things so seriously and getting a life; it would probably help with your anger issues.

AceRay

Spelling mistake should be "no." Absolutely unacceptable. Never write another story again, you hack fraud.

...

Nah, I'm just kidding. That was freaking awesome! Now its time for me to enter the scene.

Fujimoto Kumiko

Whenever he watched an action film and saw the main character get shot so many times and be fine, he always thought it was so cheesy. Now that it was happening to him, he realized that sometimes, reality is stranger than fiction. Being a time traveller certainly had its benefits.

The doctor obviously hadn't much experience handling a gun, considering how it was shaking in his hands as it pressed against Kumiko's head. Despite being shot and lying on the ground, he held the power in the moment.

"What, you thought that was a dream?" He chuckled to himself and watched as the eyes danced back and fro from denial to fear. Poor James couldn't hide from the truth forever.

He thought back to that fateful night, when he first saw Roswell from across the street. It was mid June '05 and the sun was hot in the sky, as brand new cars rolled down the streets. The doctor was sitting at a table, drinking tea with a group of other scientists and watching the streets fill up with his suit jacket off, revealing his suit vest. He was young and had a youthful arrogance of himself, as did many hot shot scientists who believed that they were going to be the forerunners in the next generation of scientists. They certainly would be, just not in the way they had intended.

Of course, that was June '05 and it was a long time ago. June, 1905, that is.

Roswell had now taken a step backwards and taken the gun off of Kumiko, shaking in his shoes. Kumiko stood up and started to patch up the bullets holes in his body, trying not to reveal his skin to the shocked doctor.

"Steel skin augmentations, its really incredible, you should try it when you're in 2114, you know," Roswell couldn't believe his eyes. He tried to make sense of it, but nothing came of it. What he believed was just a small notion had come back with horrifying results.

"You... can't have,"

"Now listen, you've gone and made a right mess up of everything haven't you? I just wanted to know where that bastard O'Fallon is. Let's get out of here before the police arrive, I'll explain on the way."

"Why should I trust you," Roswell had suddenly gotten confident again and held up the gun shakily. Kumiko sighed and pulled out his shotgun.

"Don't do it, or I will," with that, he put the barrel into his mouth. Roswell pulled away quickly, realizing the consequences of what will happen. He would say that pieces were coming together, if the pieces were more and more confusion.

"That's correct," Kumiko, then pulled the gun on Roswell and hurried him outside, the doctor scared but trying hard not to show it as they ran out of the store.

It was a good job he didn't have to pull the trigger. Cyborg skulls are incredibly hard to replace.

--

F*ck the bar, this thread is now going to be called The Time Travellers. Deal with it, yo. Anyone want to jump into this time travel orgy, feel free.

Mokrie Dela

Killed by drones.

Zaibatsu

Joined: 01 May 2009

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arch stanton﻿

James had felt like he had truly screwed something up - or if he hadn't yet, he sure would soon. Fujimoto held in tight grip onto James' shirt; pulling him in all different directions as he bolted past moving cars and traffic - he felt like a dog on a leash. His mind was racing and his heart was pumping. He couldn't help but like what was happening. For years, his life had fallen into absolute turmoil; a burning wreck.

Fujimoto had fiddled around for his car keys, still holding onto the squeamish doctor. Police sirens soon began to break the sound of puffing and panting on the two. Finally, the car door opened and James was thrown in the back; head first into the other side of the car. He hit his head hard on the other door - screaming out loud.

"Your life has been a lie," the man said, "And I've been looking for you a long time."

James whimpered as the man spoke to him. He was soon forced back into his seat as the car powered off out of the lane and into the busy city. James felt slightly concussed and so he slowly nodded off into a deep, deep sleep. He would keep on waking up in intervals, staring out the car's sunroof; it was dark outside and the sky was lit up with bright stars. In the city where he lived, there wasn't a single star in the sky. The roads were silent and the sound of tires smoothly rolling over the country road was heard.

"Stop. Stop the car, now," ordered James.

"You've finally gained the energy to say something, huh?"

The car came to a complete stop. He was surprised, they had stopped. A bright loud shined from the corner of James' eye and he blocked it out with his hand. The car slowly purred to a stop and the man climbed out, also dragging the doctor out as he cried. The man drew a small handheld pistol from his holster and proceeded to shoot James in the legs - joking by saying, "Now you don't have a chance to run away," he chuckled.

He was dragged through cow dung, chicken feathers and a lot of mud before a door creaked open. He looked up to see the light of a red barnhouse. It was almost dead silent, and to only sound was the sniffing of a barn dog walking beside Fujimoto. The only words James could say were, "Don't kill me." The man laughed, "I'm not going to hurt you James. Well, I won't kill you," he explained.

James then again looked up again at the man - he stared up at Fujimoto as he stared down at him. Crunch. He stomped on James face and he let out another yelp before everything went black. Not knowing he was to be stripped naked, and tied up in a large kitchen coop. He had awoken hours later in darkness, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. James sat in darkness for hours before screaming for help - what is this, some sick joke?

He had woke up early that next morning - a rooster was heard right in his ear as other chickens scuffled around, peaking bits of crumbs off the cage floor. The large barnhouse doors creaked open and the man walked in, still in his suit. He approached the cage and poked James with a stick; waking him up slightly.

"You are to make a time machine. You have exactly seventy-two hours. I need to go back in time to save both you and I."

James began to sob, "This isn't right. What are you talking about?"

"James, I have to go back to kill your parents. I am only living because of a simple paradox created by something of high power. Something I can not explain," he continued, lighting a cigar, "In theory, I have already killed your parents, but only because you sent me back in time to. If you fail to do so, the universe as we know it will no longer exist."

James sat in silence, before lowering his head in frustration and saying, "How do you expect me to come up with a contraption of such to propel you back 40 or so years ago?"

Fujimoto shrugged, "Well, you've done it before. You must know? Don't you remember the days when you and your 'posse' would sit outside on your lawn in deck chairs and drink tea. Discussing about science and what not?" he asked. James attempted to bang his head on the cage door.

"So why are you looking for Malachy then?"

But when James looked up again, the man was soon out of sight. Cigar smoke hung on the ceiling of the barn, making him feel dropsy and tired.

---

I hope you get where I am going with is - I have an idea to save The Bar this way. Try to go with it, or you can try to change it. But remember, if you do somehow stop my plan of saving The Bar, it could kill your character and mine and the universe of which this story is based in. Be careful.